Animals Like Me
by Lildragonbabe
Summary: It was a bright sunny day when we met, but the circumstances were anything but happy.
1. Chapter 1

**LDB: I'm here with a new story...it's been a while since I updated, huh? Anyways, I've been holding onto this one for a while, and have decided to set it free. Think what you will.**

**Warning: Extremely graphic content ahead. You have been warned.**

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><p>I hadn't been a trainer that long—about a week—when the incident occurred.<p>

You know in those stories you hear of sad tales, where the sky is covered in clouds or it's raining outside? There always seems to be some indicator that something sad or terrible has happened. Well, there was nothing about the bright, sunny sky that would hint to that.

Perhaps nature was simply laughing at the misfortune that had occurred?

I only had a few Pokémon at the time—a Torchic (named Cutie), a Zigzagoon (which I scrapped soon after—I never really cared for normal types), a Wingull (Punky), and a Poochyena (Rubes). I was so fond of my Torchic that I never, ever put him in his Pokéball, but instead just let him follow me around all day, which he was very good at. Punky wasn't very sure of me yet, while Rubes loathed my very being—couldn't blame him really. I was one of those slave-driver trainers who battled their Pokémon to exhaustion. We all get along fine now.

I was wandering through the forest of Route 102, Cutie following in his cute, wobbly footsteps right behind me. Normally the forest was teeming with Pokémon, but at the moment it was eerily quiet.

Every Pokémon trainer knows that you can never truly be alone in the wild. Pokémon are everywhere, and just because you walk onto the scene doesn't mean that every creature has to stop everything and bolt just because a _human _came along.

But this wasn't your average I'm-alone-in-the-woods kind of silence: it was a deafening, something is REALLY wrong here silence.

I stopped, uneasy.

Cutie huddled close to my legs, sharing my uneasiness. I knew that I had to comfort him, so I bent down to pat his head. It didn't make either one of us feel better, though. I was about to head back when I heard a cry from far off. It was very distressed, like someone was in terrible pain. It was a Pokémon's cry, but I couldn't place the species—Seedot, maybe?

Concerned, I headed in the direction of the cry, but paused when I realized Cutie hadn't followed. That was _very_ unlike him—even now, as an old, resilient Blaziken, Cutie has always gone wherever I've gone without question. That day was the only exception. I turned and saw him standing there, legs wobbling and tears in his big, black eyes. The poor Torchic was terrified. Maybe I should have taken that as a sign to head back, but instead I picked up the little chick and comforted him, telling him everything would be okay as I carried him closer to the crying noises.

Cutie trembled in my arms as I trudged towards the ominous sound. Every once in a while the Pokémon would pause its continual wailing, and I would have to stop and wait for it to start up again. It must have been _very_ far off, because after ten minutes of walking, I finally got the feeling I was getting close.

I jumped when I heard another sound close by. I had been so transfixed on the crying that I had almost forgotten about Cutie. He was freaking out now, crying and wiggling in my arms, wanting to get down and away from the noise. For the first time since I had gotten my first Pokémon, I pulled out his pokéball to put him away, disconcerted by his panic.

As I was about to recall him, I got another sign that something was terribly wrong—a sickly, metallic scent in the air. It was faint, like the cries had been, but it was definitely there. Despite my better judgment, I recalled Cutie into his pokéball; I couldn't stand to see him so scared and nervous.

A powerful sense of foreboding came from up ahead, along with that sickly smell I couldn't quite place. And yet, something seemed to be pulling me in, as if I was _supposed_ to be here…

"Raaaalts!" it cried again, and suddenly I knew who had been calling for me. And in that moment, I knew what to do.

I got onto my feet and walked directly to the voice. As I got closer, this sense of urgency overcame me, and I began moving faster with each step I took. The scent became stronger, than overpowering, until it was so strong I felt I could vomit, but I followed that crying voice until I came upon the scene.

It is the single most horrifying thing I have ever seen.

The first thing I noticed was the blood. Everywhere, red and sticky, it gleamed marvelously in the sunlight. It was like something from a horror movie, a sight you would only see surrounded by friends, eating popcorn and snickering at inappropriate jokes.

But this, this was _real_.

Surrounded by all this red, in the middle of the clearing, laid two Gardevoir, their bodies lifeless and covered in blood. They lie on the ground, twisted at odd angles like broken porcelain dolls. Their insides were gone: their chests and bellies had been ripped open, their organs removed, leaving a stomach-churning mess of muscles and fat pilled up inside.

I gagged and averted my eyes from the corpses, their hollow eye sockets staring at me as I wretched behind a bush. When I finished emptying my stomach, I dry-heaved a few times for good measure. For some inexplicable reason, after wiping the vomit from my face (which was now as pale as a Gardevoir's skin), I looked back at the gruesome clearing. I felt like I was looking for something, though what it was I couldn't possibly begin to know.

The smell of their decomposing bodies, mixing with the acrid smell of my vomit, filled my nostrils as I looked past the broken corpses. This time, I noticed something else littering the ground—little bits and pieces of some kind of shell. I dragged myself closer, my legs too weak to stand. I covered my mouth and finally succumbed to the tears gathering in my eyes as I realized what they had been.

They were _eggs_.

There must have been three or four of them smashed on the earth. In the midst of the egg fragments lay fetuses at different stages of development, covered in clear embryonic fluids. One of the bodies had been crushed. I couldn't make myself look away, as desperately as I wished to. I was terrified and on the verge of vomiting again, gagging on the air I was breathing. Why couldn't I just _leave_?

Than something moved, something I hadn't noticed before. It sat next to one of the mangled bodies of the Gardevoir, shivering. It shook the arm of the corpse and lifted its blood-stained head and whimpered, tears gliding down its pale cheeks.

"Ra-alts…"

When I saw him lying there, instinct took over my body. I raced over to the Ralts and scooped him up, holding him tightly against my chest to protect him from the horror surrounding us. He protested by crying loudly and beating me with his little fists, trying to get back to the ground, to his parents. I pressed his face to my chest and I ran as fast as I could back the way I came. He cried violently, heartbroken from being taken away from his mother and father. But there was nothing for him there, and so I ran.

I don't remember much else before I reached the Pokémon center. I think I fell at some point and banged up my arm (I have the scar to prove it), and I _do_ remember a few people asked me for help as I raced past them. I must have been in pretty bad shape, because when I ran into the Pokémon Center in Petalburg City, Nurse Joy looked absolutely horrified at the site of me.

Well, I _had_ been crawling around in blood and other fluids.

The thought sent me back into a state of panic as all the memories of what had just happened flashed through my mind—the corpses, the blood, the dead babies. I threw up all over the floor, still holding Ralts tightly. He was sobbing softly into my shoulder, clinging to my neck, desperate, unsure, and scared—just like me. Nurse Joy ran up and asked me what had happened, pulling me towards the emergency room. I stared at her, mouth open and head spinning. All I could manage to spit out was—

"He was crying—and, and the blood, and...and the babies—" I fell to the floor, curling up into the fetal position "—oh MEW, the babies…"

Ralts and I sobbed our hearts out; he cried for his family, and I cried for him. Nurse Joy tried to separate us at some point, but we refused. He actually _bit_ her: he held onto me like _I_ was his mother, not the rotting corpse we left in the forest. I begged her, "Please, don't separate us. I'm all he has left."

Despite the worry on her face, she nodded and helped me onto my feet. She guided us to a bathroom where we could shower, and after assuring her that he was fine and asking her to call Officer Jenny, she gave me some privacy. I decided to just take a shower in my clothes. They were disgusting anyways, and Ralts wasn't planning on letting me go soon.

I stared listlessly at the floor, rubbing Ralts' back as I watched the bloody water swirl around my feet. The warm water, combined with his exhaustion, had finally soothed him to sleep, so I was careful not to let the water splash on his head. With my fingers I carefully scrubbed the blood off his body. I stood there for a while, letting the water run over my body. I was hoping that it would wash away this terrible feeling of helplessness, the sadness and rage and insecurity coursing through my body, but it gave me no such relief.

But I couldn't show my feelings in front of this child; I needed to be there for him. So instead, when Nurse Joy came knocking on the door to tell me that Officer Jenny had arrived, I wiped the tears off my face, took a deep breath, wrapped Ralts in a towel, and stepped out of the bathroom (still dripping water on the floor). I hadn't realized Joy had taken me to one of the guest rooms, so Officer Jenny and I sat in lawn chairs on the balcony as I recounted to her the tale I have just told you. She stared at me with a hard intensity and asked me questions occasionally, but for the most part listened attentively. I rocked Ralts slowly, speaking in a soft voice so as not to wake him. It was almost sunset when I finished and Officer Jenny left with a few other officers to investigate the scene. I had refused to go with her, but I did tell her how to get there. I had no intention of seeing that sight ever again.

Nurse Joy came in with some food for the two of us, along with my things I had left with her when I left this morning. I thanked her and asked for some privacy—I needed to get dressed, or my wet clothes would give me a cold. I placed him on the bed, unwrapping him and using the towel to dry myself as I stripped naked. I pulled out a dry pair of pajamas, scooped him back up in my arms, and collapsed on the bed. We were both too exhausted to eat.

The next day, Officer Jenny informed me that Ralt's family had been killed by organ poachers—people who kill Pokémon and harvest their organs to sell on the black market. Apparently, they had been very active in the Hoenn region lately, our incident having been the fifth to occur that month. And it would be more than a year before we would confront the men who killed his parents. But I took him as my own, and like all my Pokémon, Boo lives with me to this day on our ranch. He's quiet and reserved, but even as an old Gallade the two of us are still close. Sometimes, I can see the pain in his eyes, and when he remembers I hold him close. Together we mourn the tragedy that occurred that bright, sunny day.

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><p>LDB: This was originally meant to be a one shot, but my friend encouraged me to continue it, so there will be more; however, instead of being told from the trainer's point of view, it will be told from the Ralts. That is all I have to say for now.<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: The first chapter is the only one told from the trainer's point of view; the rest of the story is told from the Ralt's point of view, starting from when he was born to his meeting with his trainer and the events that followed afterwards.**

There's this thing humans do: it's called 'naming.' And, well, humans enjoy naming things. As a Pokémon, it's not something I've really understood. Does everything in life really need an introduction? There always seems to be a "This Pokémon is called this" or "This building is named that." Of course, we Pokémon still call trees 'trees' and rocks 'rocks,' but if I live in Sinnoh I don't need to know that there's a Pokémon in Unova called Blitzle. It's just not useful information. In fact, in the wild, my parents never referred to any of our neighbors by a specific name, nor did they refer to us by a name. We remembered each other, and that was enough.

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><p>So when I first became a part of the world of humans, I was baffled at all these names. Every person, every building, every <em>Pokémon<em> had a name to go by. There was John, Mary, Steven, Devon Goods, the Pokémon Center, 14 Cradily Avenue, Princess, Spot, Wily…just an endless string of things to learn. Even at the age of 32, I'm still learning the names of everything.

For a Pokémon, it's a slow, ongoing process.

I was born a wild Pokémon. You would have called me a Ralts, my parents Gardevoirs, but we didn't refer to each other as such. To me, they were Mother and Father; to them, I was Child. Simple as that. It was the same for every other Pokémon family in the forest I had lived.

On the day I hatched, the first thing I saw was two white-and-green faces peering down at me. Mother and Father were kneeling in front of me, observing me and admiring me. The face on the left immediately began to make a fuss over me, some kind of noise spilling out of an unseen mouth. Just like you, I wasn't born with the ability to understand speech. I was, however, born with the ability to wail.

And wail I did.

Both faces were filled with surprise at the sound I made, and left-face (whom I soon came to know as Mother) picked me up and bounced me on her shoulder, speaking in a low, soothing voice. When I began to calm, right-face (my Father) took me from left-face and held me high in the air with pride. They said things to me, held me close, showed me off to the neighbors. I was their first child; I would be their only one, too.


End file.
